Fannie has the sweetest foot <br />Ever in a gaiter boot! <br />And the hoyden knows it, <br />And, of course, she shows it- <br />Not the knowledge, but the foot- <br />Yet with such a modest grace, <br />Never seems it out of place, <br />Ah, there are not many <br />Half so sly, or sad, or mad, <br />Or wickeder than Fannie. <br /> <br />Fannie has the blackest hair <br />Of any of the village girls; <br />It does not shower on her neck <br />In silken or coquettish curls. <br />It droops in folds around her brow, <br />As clouds, at night, around the moon, <br />Looped with lilies here and there, <br />In many a dangerous festoon. <br />And Fannie wears a gipsy hat, <br />Saucily-yes, all of that! <br />Ah, there are not many <br />Half so sly, or sad, or mad, <br />Or wickeder than Fannie. <br /> <br />Fannie wears an open dress- <br />Ah! the charming chemisette! <br />Half concealing, half revealing <br />Something far more charming yet. <br />Fannie draper her breast with lace, <br />As one would drape a costly vase <br />To keep away mischevious flies; <br />But lace can't keep away one's eyes, <br />For every time her bosom heaves, <br />Ah, it peepeth through it; <br />Yet Fannie looks the while as if <br />Never once she knew it. <br />Ah, there are not many <br />Half so sly, or sad, or mad, <br />Or innocent than Fannie. <br /> <br />Fannie lays her hand in mine; <br />Fannie speaks with naivete, <br />Fannie kisses me, she does! <br />In her own coquettish way. <br />Then softly speaks and deeply sighs, <br />With angels nestled in her eyes. <br />In the merrie month of May, <br />Fannie swears sincerely <br />She will be my own wife, <br />And love me dearly, dearly <br />Ever after all her life. <br />Ah, there are not many <br />Half so sly, or sad, or mad, <br />As my true-hearted Fannie.<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fannie/
